Button to Beans: Finding fresh happy and healthy paths

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Happy Then/Happy Now

About Me

Unique combinations of circumstances shoved into one confused but rarely permanently-discouraged woman.
I am a woman, an accountant, an MBA, a feminist, a widow, a girlfriend, a sister, a non-profit aficionado: in short- I have a never-ending desire to change the world.

About this blog

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ― Maya Angelou

My interests and explorations include: organic foods, healthy living, yoga, food allergies, and grief. In 2010 I found that I needed to fulfill a destiny that I could never have imagined - that of a widow. Through a lot of tears and self discovery I have found that healthy inside helps a healthy brain - I will share those and other musings here.

Other Pages Of Mine

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

I sat in a dark basement unsure how to operate a complex power tool when Mike approaches and I ask him why he bought so many complex things. He knows what I really mean,

"Why did you die and leave me with so many complex things to figure out?"

For once we aren't rushing into each other's arms, we aren't clasping to the wisps of each other that still linger in our subconscious. We just stand and talk, face to face. Like the soul mates we once were.

"When I had the choice to die, I couldn't resist. It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime opportunities".

I huff a little air out of my nose. My mind goes back, almost 3 years back. To the morning he lay on the couch, between this world and the next. He had survived before: I had revived him, others had revived him. But this time he chose to float further down the stream of nothingness. Losing his full consciousness to the void.

I tell him I understand. I can't hide the pain, but it doesn't boil on the surface like fresh blisters anymore. He leans down and looks me in the eye, "I am sorry I don't get to visit like I'd wanted, I don't get to see you grow up. I left a lot of pain, you and Mark took the brunt of it."

I remember last year at the cemetery - 2 years after. The only person who seemed to ache like I did was his closest brother. The sight of each other was almost too much for either of us to bear. The only other person his little brother Mikey loved as much as him, was me - and vice versa.

One last thing strikes me as my alarm starts robbing my time with Mike short: he isn't magically better. I am not talking to the Mike I fell in love with at 17, or the Mike that sits atop the pedestal in my memories: the one carved of the good times and not the bad. I am talking, albeit rationally, to the Mike that left.

There is no illusion that the mental illness and brain injuries that sold our time short would have reversed and graciously re-instituted our marriage.

Regardless of his decision to float away, we would never have lived the life we had planned. Those dreams were not meant for us. Even if he had chose to live, our marriage and love story had already died.

Thank you for joining June's Widowed Blog Hop. I hope you'll stop by the other widowed bloggers and send them some love.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Forgiveness is the swan dive of freedom off the cliff of anxiety.
Can we muster the courage? What if we-
Forgave ourselves
Forgave our partners for dying
Forgave our in laws for not understanding.

Is there a way to grant forgiveness
for transgressions you don't understand?
The search for responsibility:
to sort the seed from the shaft,
truth from the pain that bore it.

There is power in accepting guilt,
The enticing illusion of control within reach.
Sometimes I can't stand the pain of reality.
Like a cold glass of vodka, soothing its way down the spine:
I delve into the fantasy that his voice is only a phone call away.

Its a tempting trap.
One that I all-too-willingly step into each time I walk the trail alone.
Every damned time.
The bear trap of guilt snaps through my bones and entraps my consciousness.
Keeping my sanity captive until I manage to pry and drag my battered body away.

Limp and bruised I try harder to listen to the warnings and rationalizations:
I did the best I knew how.
It was his time.
There was just too much pain.

But not tonight.
Tonight I write to you with one leg stuck in the trap
and no more energy to battle.
My fingers are chilled and raw.
I have spent every night for nearly a week
flogging myself for each and every mistake.

I see Mike in my dreams,
watch the double hop on his right leg when the left couldn't keep up.
I find him unconscious again and again.
Watch the news of his car "accident" over and over.
Feel the deep emptiness in my chest when he would cry to me for help.

Every. Time. I. Am. Helpless.

I am bludgeoned by a subconscious
replaying each scenario to find a way out.
Like an investigator rewinding footage
in my relentless search for meaning.
If only I can find why,
maybe....

Maybe he could grow up,
Maybe he could breathe deep and laugh,
Maybe it's all a mistake.
Maybe he could be loved.
Maybe he could love me.
Maybe everything wasn't a mistake.
Maybe, just maybe he could live.

Welcome to monthly widowed blog hop. Please stop by my friends and fellow widowed blogger's sites and leave them some love. I hope you enjoyed the piece of my soul that I left for you today, please leave me some love in the comments as well.
With love and light,
Jess

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Grief can cause you to shrivel, withdraw from the world.
Instead, recognize
the space created by the pain that inhaled deep
A river flowing beyond its banks.

Because of the flood of 2010, my river widened its reach
It loves you with your pain, it accepts your craggy shores,
and washes over you with abundance.
Currents and rapids of life exhilarate and fascinate:
what could possibly be next?

I invite you to camp on my shores,
share in the ever changing power of water.
Quench your thirst for acceptance.
Shout with anger until exhaustion:
only to hear the roar of the rapid overpower your fury
then soothe you to sleep with the consistency those things bigger than you or I.

Even if you clutch everything close to your chest, the water changes you
the sand sifts between your fingers and evaporates.
Do not expect to walk away with the pain you brought in,
instead anticipate your boulders turned to pebbles.

In the same way. I will not host a "support group".
I will not invite pain, harsh words and self sorrow.
Instead, I will accept your oblivion, your misery
and your ability to be grow.

Call out individuals and invite honest connections.
invite the water of change into your life.
soak your shriveled, battered roots in the abundance of love.

With the power of the river behind you,
examine your own boundaries,
look above your toes.
The old valley was beautiful, it is truly something to be missed:
but damn, aren't the gentle crocuses and fawns of new life a sight to behold.

Welcome to Blog Hop Wednesday. Enjoy my fellow bloggers pieces below, and remember to leave me some love if what I shared today reached you in any way.